


Intuition

by FuchsiaMae



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuchsiaMae/pseuds/FuchsiaMae
Summary: The slightest fluctuation changes everything.(Originally posted to Tumblr 05/30/13)





	Intuition

That night, for the first time in many years, Rosalind had the dream again.

It began the same way. She was a child again, and standing before her was a child identical to herself—like looking in a mirror, but not. This other girl was every bit as real as she. And then Rosalind became aware of more girls behind the first, and still more behind herself, all identical, all Rosalind Lutece—all herself, and yet not.

And then the dream changed. She was no longer a child of seven or eight. She was her adult self, down to the white laboratory coat with the slight singe on its sleeve, and before her the other girl had changed as well. An exact twin of her adult self gazed back at her. All around them the other Rosalinds were older too, wearing different clothes—some in gowns, some in the drab uniforms of schoolteachers, a few in white coats like herself—but all the same face, the same form, the same Rosalind Lutece. One by one the others faded out, and she was left alone with the first.

It—she—the other Rosalind smiled at herself. Rosalind the dreamer felt the same sensation this dream always brought, but stronger than ever before—an overwhelming curiosity, a draw like the pull of a magnet towards this other self. She reached out, slowly, and her twin reached out as well—a tiny step forward brought them closer—and their hands, reaching, just inches apart—and finally they touched— 

* * *

 

Rosalind snapped awake. The sky outside was still dark, nowhere close to sunrise, but she bolted out of bed like it was on fire. Down the stairs to the laboratory she ran, miraculously not tripping on her nightdress, and in an instant she was at the machine which maintained her Lutece Field. She grabbed for the controls. Those fluctuations earlier had significance, she was sure of it—and they hadn’t been caused by anything in her laboratory. They came from somewhere else.

This was insane. But what if it was right?

She loathed the term  _intuition_ , but she would stake her life on this certainty now, this magnetic feeling deep in her core that dragged her inescapably onward. A few turned dials, and she was able to replicate the field variance. Now what if that variance appeared in that somewhere else?  

Insane. Totally insane. But she had to try.

A proper message would take far too much time, but random blinks would communicate nothing. She needed a pattern that was short and distinct, certain to catch notice and let whoever was out there know she was there too. Morse code would be simple, if anyone who saw it understood Morse code. But what—

Oh. Of course.

And with shaking fingers, she turned the controls higher and lower, creating a pattern of dits and dahs in the field, spelling out what an observer might recognize as two letters:

RL

RL

RL

Slowly and precisely she tapped it out, again and again. And again. And again.

RL

RL

RL

She didn’t know what she was expecting. Another signal? A reply? But she kept going, watching the field’s light brighten and dim, until her hands on the dials grew sore. Her signaling slowed.

RL

RL

One last repetition—RL—and then she stopped. Ridiculous idea. Time to go back to bed.

But she didn’t leave the machine. Her eyes stayed fixed on the softly glowing Lutece Field. Ridiculous idea, but even a scientist could hope.

The field winked.

In an instant she was back at the controls, watching the field shift independently.

Dit—dah—dit. Dit—dah—dit-dit. 

Dit—dah—dit. Dit—dah—dit-dit. 

RL

RL

Her heart leaped in a way she’d never felt before. Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t even feel them—she was too focused on flashing a reply.

RL


End file.
